Have you ever wondered what it was like to have a seasoned, battle hardened Joe mad at you? Say, Clutch, for instance.

If you ever want to find out, destroy a VAMP.

You can expect to scrub dirt, blood, oil and things you'd prefer not to know the origin of from every vehicle in the motor pool. In case you were counting, that's a lot. Seriously, a lot. And these things aren't small. Have you SEEN a RHINO? They're huge. And the nooks and crannies collect debris and gore like they were magnets (how do THEY work?).

So, yeah, being on Clutch's sh!t list, sucks.

He also shipped me to Communications. Which is fine with me because Dial-Tone is wicked hot. She looks a lot like Helix, but more approachable. Because Helix is scary. Like Snake Eyes with boobs. But meaner, because she talks.

When they shipped us to this hell-hole, I'm pretty sure that I was the last person Clutch expected to see. But here I am and there he is. And right now, his team is drawing massive fire and I'm doing my best to make surf he makes it out alive.

Sadly, I'm no marksmen. So I'm hitting targets, but I'm making a mess of them. Several blue shirts are going to have permanent limps because I blew out their shins, knees or hips instead of giving them a glorious headshot. Truth be told, I'm aiming for their balls. Petty? Childish? Yeah. But who hasn't wanted to do that? Maybe if I save Clutch and shoot a snake in the sack, He'll give me a high-five.